


nothing that your mind can’t do

by starlightwalking



Series: the wondrous parts of you and I [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Asking Your Fiance's Father For Their Hand In Marriage, Engagement, Family Drama, M/M, Miscommunication, Simultaneous Scenes, Trans Fingon, Years of the Trees, betrothal, there's got to be a better tag for that smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Two houses, both alike in dignity...
Relationships: Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Fingon | Findekáno
Series: the wondrous parts of you and I [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979144
Comments: 15
Kudos: 54
Collections: Anna's Trans Anthology





	nothing that your mind can’t do

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this fic ends happily - but I can't promise that for the next one...
> 
> ETA: title from "Helpless" from the musical Hamilton

“What do you want from me, Nolofinwion?”

Findekáno took a deep breath, gathering all his courage before looking Fëanáro straight in the eye. “Lord Fëanáro,” he began, “I have a deep respect for you and your family, and, as you know, a great love for your eldest son.”

Fëanáro’s nostrils flared at this, but he did not interrupt. Findekáno pressed on: “It is for the sake of this respect and love that I come to you to—to ask permission to wed Prince Nelyafinwë.”

“Ah, Maitimo,” Nolofinwë said, welcoming him in with a smile. “It is good to see you. Although—Findekáno is not at home at the moment.”

Maitimo nodded, swallowing his nerves. “I know. I came to speak to you, my lord.”

“None of that,” Nolofinwë dismissed. “We are family, after all. You may call me Ñolofinwë.”

“Um...thank you, Nolofinwë,” Maitimo said. Why was he so anxious? It was not as if he’d never spoken to his half-uncle in private before. But...he was not here as Nolofinwë’s nephew. He was here as Findekáno’s betrothed.

“That is why I am here,” Maitimo added, before he could talk himself out of this. “For the sake of our families.”

Nolofinwë frowned. “I see,” he said, eyes sharp. “Come into my study, Maitimo, and let us speak.”

“ _What_?” Fëanáro demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously. Findekáno clenched his fist beneath the desk. He knew how dreadful Fëanáro’s wrath could be.

“Nelyafinwë and I have been courting for nearly two years now,” he began, keeping his voice steady and using the name Fëanáro preferred for his eldest, “in private—”

“In _secret_ , you mean!” Fëanáro hissed. “Behind my back!”

“In _private_ ,” Findekáno repeated. He forced a smile onto his face. “We are grown néri who do not require supervision. As I said, my lord, it is for the respect I bear you that I have come to ask for the hand of my beloved.”

 _Rather than marrying him without asking anyone’s permission,_ he did not say. But the implication was there, and Fëanáro was clever. He knew what Findekáno meant.

“So, Maitimo,” Nolofinwë said, settling into an armchair and gesturing for him to take the other. “What is it that bothers you?”

“Ah...well...” Maitimo bit his lip. This was nothing compared to what Finno was going through, he reminded himself. Nolofinwë had a temper, yes, but not as much as Fëanáro.

“Finno has gone to speak with my father,” he began, then winced. That was not, perhaps, the best place to start.

“What? Why?” Nolofinwë asked.

Maitimo breathed deeply, closing his eyes. “My lord—Uncle. Over the past two years, Findekáno and I have become...very close.”

Nolofinwë relaxed somewhat. “You have always been close,” he said. “It warms my heart to see my son and Fëanáro’s as friends so dear.”

“Yes, but...” Maitimo trailed off. “Well. We are closer than even you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—” This was it. There was no going back after this. “I mean that Finno and I wish to be married. We are in love. We desire to wed.” He swallowed. “With your blessing. We hope.”

Nolofinwë stared.

“You cannot be serious,” Fëanáro growled. “As if Nelyafinwë would consort with the likes of you—!”

“We have long been friends,” Findekáno said, struggling to keep his cool. “Now that friendship has taken a deeper turn. Why does this shock you?”

“Why is he not here, then, to confirm your ludicrous tale?” Fëanáro demanded. “How do I know you are not trying to make a fool of me?”

“He is not here because even now he speaks with my father, asking him the same question I ask you!” Findekáno snapped.

At last, Nolofinwë spoke, his voice strangled. “Married?”

“Yes,” Maitimo said, feeling as though he might faint.

“Married,” Nolofinwë repeated, as if checking he heard Maitimo right.

“Yes.”

“And—” Nolofinwë rubbed his temples. “Two years, you said?”

Maitimo shifted in his seat. “Nearly.”

“Since you plighted your troth...?”

“Since we first confessed our love,” Maitimo said, and he smiled at the memory, warmth blossoming in his chest at the thought of those stars in his beloved’s eyes. “We decided to...take the next step just last month.”

Fëanáro glared. “What is it you really want from me?” he challenged. “Riches? Power?”

Findekáno drew back, offended, but Fëanáro continued before he could deny such faithless greed: “Is not your usurping father satisfied with taking—”

“This is not about you and my father,” Findekáno said. He hadn’t known his voice could be so cold. “It is about me and Russandol.”

Fëanáro blinked, caught off guard. “Russandol?”

Findekáno sat back, willing himself to relax. With thoughts of his lover on his mind, it was easy to find a smile. “Yes. Even as I bear his ribbons in my hair,” and here he stroked a braid woven with Russo’s gift, “he bears the epessë I gave him.”

Fëanáro went still and silent. Somehow, that was more frightening than his rage.

“You’re serious,” he said at last, almost subdued.

Findekáno stuck out his chin. “Yes. I am.”

“And you come to me _now_?” Nolofinwë inquired, an edge to his tone. “Not earlier, to ask permission to court my son? You know that he has always adored you, idolized you—”

Heat rushed to Maitimo’s cheeks, and clenched his fists. “I did not take advantage of him as you imply,” he snapped. “Our love—our love is mutual, and genuine, and is as strong and pure in his heart as it is in mine.”

Nolofinwë raised his hands. “I apologize. Even if it were not—” a shadow passed across his face— “Findekáno is an adult, capable of making his own...choices.”

“We did not come to you for fear of rejection,” Maitimo explained, his words still barbed. “We only come to you now in the hope you will accept us.”

Nolofinwë’s brow furrowed. “And should I deny your suit...”

“We would both be grieved,” Maitimo said, firm and unflinching. “But I would go against my father for his sake, and I believe he would do the same for me.”

He watched carefully for any sign of displeasure on his uncle’s part, but though his eyes darkened, Nolofinwë said nothing as Maitimo continued, “We yearn for your approval, that this strife between our houses might be laid to rest, that we may find happiness together. But if we must flee from Tirion—from all Eldalië—to be wed...there is nothing I would not sacrifice for my husband.”

“Then what is it you truly want from _him_?” Fëanáro inquired, no less sharp than before. “His status? His body?”

Findekáno gave him a disgusted look. Status he had already; and yes, he wanted Russandol’s hröa, but his desires went deeper than that. “His heart.”

Fëanáro stood abruptly, pacing about his study. For a long minute he said nothing; Findekáno could almost feel his thoughts flying about him in a frenzy.

At last Fëanáro halted, gripping the back of his chair. A peculiar light was in his eyes. “He cannot give you children.”

Findekáno blinked. Children? That was the last thing on his mind. If he were to have a child...it would be some time far in the future. He was not certain he would wish to bear one, and though Russandol was good with children he had never expressed a deep desire to be a father.

And if Fëanáro meant what Findekáno thought he did—

Well, their forays into intimacy had not gone that far; it was certainly _possible_ that Russandol was the same as Findekáno in...anatomy. He could recall no stories of Russo being known as anything other than a prince, as he himself had once been called a princess, but, well, if Russo had expressed the truth of his fëa at the same age he had, that would have been before Findekáno was even born.

He thought that was the sort of thing they would have talked about...but it wasn’t as if Findekáno himself had thought to bring it up. The shape of his hröa would be something they would explore together when they were wed, but it was not particularly relevant to Findekáno in his daily life, not since the awkwardness of adolescence had passed. It could easily be the same for Russo.

“That doesn’t matter,” Findekáno said after a pause. Surely Fëanáro did not think that Findekáno, of all people, would judge Russandol for who he was! “What matters is only this: that I love him.”

Fëanáro breathed out through his nostrils. He glared at Findekáno for a moment longer, then turned aside, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Alright then.”

“Maitimo!” Nolofinwë exclaimed. “You speak of dreadful things!”

He shrugged. “And I hope they must not come to pass. I speak of them only so you might understand the depth of my devotion. Of _our_ devotion.”

Nolofinwë sat back in his armchair. “You wish to join our houses together?” he asked, sounding very tired.

“That is a happy consequence, yes,” Maitimo admitted. “But the truth is that I love him, and I cannot be without him. Not for anything.”

“You speak of grand sacrifices,” Nolofinwë said softly. “Is there anything you _wouldn’t_ do for my son? Anything you could not give up for his sake?”

Maitimo thought long and hard before answering. Findekáno was his world, his light—but they were their own eldar, and though he wished to bind his soul to Finno’s for all of Arda, there would be times where they must by necessity be apart. It would not be realistic to say there was _nothing_ he would not sacrifice for Findekáno...he certainly would not ask that of Finno himself. But he couldn’t imagine what that breaking point would be, for he knew that Findekáno loved him as deeply as he loved Findekáno, and would not wish for Maitimo’s suffering.

“There may be,” he said slowly, “but I cannot think of such a thing, and I do not think he would ask it of me, for he loves me as I love him.”

He hesitated. There _was_ one thing—not something that would make him turn from his beloved, but one thing only made him sorrowful. He and Findekáno were both néri, and while that allowed for many exciting possibilities (and it was not as if he desired níssi, not when he had Finno), he had long yearned quietly for children of his own, and marrying Findekáno would make that an impossibility.

Maitimo had never mentioned this to Finno; he never even implied that his fondness for children went beyond simple brotherly affection. He did not want to give his beloved the impression that he was inadequate in any way, for he was _not_ , and to have Finno as his husband—ai, that was worth anything and everything. The hröa had limitations, but there was nothing Findekáno’s mind and spirit were not capable of, and with him, Maitimo felt happier and stronger than he had ever before known.

“It matters not that we cannot have children,” he said softly, “for we shall have each other.”

Nolofinwë frowned. “You...” He appraised Maitimo for a moment, as if seeing him in a new light. Then he said, “I thought you wished to be a father.”

Maitimo nodded, sighing wistfully. “I did,” he admitted. “But I wish more to be his husband.”

At this Nolofinwë bowed his head. “Very well,” he said, and Maitimo’s heart skipped a beat.

Findekáno gaped. “Wait...really?”

“I must speak with my son first,” Fëanáro warned, running a hand through his hair. “But if this truly _is_ his wish as well as yours... Well.” He grimaced. “Nelyafinwë can be as stubborn as I, and though I cannot pretend to be pleased with his choice of spouse, I know better than to deny him his heart’s desire.”

“Then...you give us your blessing?” Maitimo asked, not quite daring to believe it.

Nolofinwë sighed. “If this is Findekáno’s desire also, I would be foolish to stand in your way.” He reached out, grasping Maitimo’s arm. “As I would be foolish to turn down this opportunity for peace between our families.”

Findekáno’s mood turned from determined to elated. Laughing, he sprang to his feet and embraced his uncle, crying, “Thank you, thank you!”

Fëanáro patted him awkwardly on the back, then pushed him away. “None of that,” he grumbled. “Do not make me regret this, Findekáno.”

Findekáno grinned bashfully. “Nonetheless, I am deeply grateful, my lord.” He paused, then added something he knew would stroke Fëanáro’s ego: “And I am honored to join myself to your mighty House.”

Fëanáro gave him a queer look. “Get thee gone, Nolofinwion,” he said tiredly, waving a hand. “There is much I must do if I am to plan your wedding.”

“Of course, my lord,” Findekáno said, deciding he would try out calling Fëanáro “Father” another day. And as he departed, he heard his future law-father mutter to himself, “Hmm. Nolofinwë’s brood, part of _my_ House. I think I like that...”

“I...” Maitimo swallowed back tears, standing to pull his uncle into an embrace. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Nolofinwë hugged him back tightly. “Did you truly think I would deny you?” he asked gruffly. “I needed only to ascertain your true motives, Maitimo.”

“I worried,” Maitimo mumbled. “I confess...I worry more what my own father might do.”

Nolofinwë stepped back, his hands placed firmly on Maitimo’s shoulders. “Should he disapprove, I will stand by you.”

Maitimo was overcome first by another wave of gratitude, and then by a wry acceptance that this was, in truth, another political move.

“I know that is the game you play,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And yet I am grateful, Nolofinwë. I am honored to have your love.”

“I do hope it will not come to that,” Nolofinwë said. “I would rather end our petty games and bring our family together in harmony once more.”

“I want the same,” Maitimo agreed.

Nolofinwë kissed his brow. “Be joyful, yonya,” he instructed. “And...Maitimo?”

He paused as he turned to go. “Yes?”

“Take care of my son.”

**Author's Note:**

> The miscommunications set up in this fic will be resolved in a later story :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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